


Once upon a snowy Monday morning

by 17 pansies (17pansies)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Get Together, M/M, Modern AU, Snow Day, boys being ridiculous, coffee shop fluff, pre-season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17pansies/pseuds/17%20pansies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos wakes up with Aramis.  This... was not how his week was supposed to have begun.  However it turns out to be an auspicious start for the rest of his life.</p><p>And there's snow.  And coffee (of course). And Porthos being smug, but that's Porthos, yes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once upon a snowy Monday morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feuercrux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feuercrux/gifts).



> Written for my darling Feuercrux who asked for boys being snowed in, just prior to the start of the second season of the Musketeers. This is what she got.

Athos lay very still. He was awake, he knew that much. He was also curled up on his side with the blankets tucked up to his nose like usual, but that was where normality stopped.

It was quiet, the kind of muffled silence that only heavy snow can bring. No movement on the street outside, no birdsong, the faintest murmur of distant traffic which meant that the motorway was at least clear.

It wasn't just the quiet though. There was a line of heat down his back which he'd not felt in a long time, a heavy weight draped around his waist and the slow, even breathing of someone who was still fast asleep sent warm shivers across his neck.

Holy crap, he thought, as the previous night came crashing back in full Technicolor. He was in bed with Aramis.

Athos didn't know whether to bolt from the room or lie very still and pretend that it had never happened. The latter was more difficult, though, because as he thought about it, he could feel the pleasant dull ache that was a reminder of exactly what it was that they'd done. Flashes of Aramis pressing him down onto the soft, smooth sheets, taking Athos apart with his hands and his mouth and his teeth... Athos shivered at the memory, feeling himself start to harden.

Christ, get a grip, he thought. Aramis was a notorious flirt, who fell in and out of love in the space of hours. Athos had watched him for years, wanted him for nearly as long. He'd always sworn never to get caught like this, to be ensnared by those soulful dark eyes and seductive words...

"You're thinking, aren't you?" The sleep-roughened voice made Athos jump. "Stop it, it's not good for you."

"I wasn't." It was a half-hearted protest though, and Athos knew it.

"Whatever you're stewing over, forget it." Aramis nuzzled into the back of Athos' neck. "At a guess you're working yourself up to run away, yes?"

"I hate you," Athos grumbled, shutting his eyes.

"No, you don't." Aramis sounded almost smug. A soft kiss was pressed to the back of Athos' neck. "You don't hate me at all."

Athos sighed. He didn't hate Aramis - that was the problem. He needed to get up, to get dressed and laugh this off, put it down to one drink too many and an excess of festive cheer.

Except it was three days into the New Year and he'd not actually drunk all that much.

"Still thinking," Aramis chided. The warmth against Athos' back moved, but before he could get too disappointed, he was tugged over to lie on his back. Aramis looked down at him with a smile. "Stop it."

"It's alright for you," Athos said, mouth moving before his brain was fully in gear. "You do this sort of thing all the time. I can't just switch off from one conquest and move on to the next."

Aramis blinked, the sleepy expression sliding away to be replaced with one that was far too calculating for Athos' comfort.

"You think you're just a conquest?" Aramis said slowly. "A one night stand that's destined to be just another notch on my bedpost?"

Athos didn't like the wave of vulnerability which washed over him. Aramis' gaze was piercing, as if he were looking straight into Athos' heart; through every barrier and facade that Athos had ever built in an effort to protect himself from the force of nature which was Aramis. Athos couldn't remember a time when he'd not been in love with his best friend. When he hadn't wanted him so badly it was a physical ache. Even going away to university in Paris hadn't helped - Aramis had come to visit him from Seville at every opportunity and now, here they were, in some quaint little English town doing post-grad study together and Athos had finally succumbed to the need and the want and the all consuming desire.

It was the fall out which he wasn't looking forward to.

"You find sex an entertainment," Athos said, pulling his gaze away from Aramis'. "I know it doesn't mean as much to you, which is fine, honestly, it is. I just..." He had to close his eyes. "I find it harder to keep the feelings separate."

'You think there are no feelings here?"

Athos felt gentle kisses against his eyelids and drew a sharp, shuddering breath in.

"Don't toy with me," he whispered. It wasn't begging, it wasn't.

Even if it felt like it.

"Oh, Athos." Aramis settled his body on top of Athos', a warm welcome weight which helped ground Athos somewhat. "I would never toy with you. Never tease you. There are more feelings here than you could possibly know."

"What?" Athos' eyes snapped open and his breath caught at the fond smile on Aramis' face. "You don't do feelings."

"No, I don't. Not for other people." He cupped Athos face and ran a thumb over his cheekbone. "But you aren't other people, you're Athos and I've wanted you forever."

Athos stared at him in amazement.

"You? Wanted me?"

"Don't look so surprised." Aramis kissed him softly. "I thought you might feel the same way, but you hid it so well. I never dared risk our friendship until I knew for sure."

"How did you know?" He let his legs fall open a bit more so he could cradle Aramis between his thighs. Aramis rocked their hips together with a happy sigh.

"Porthos told me to get my head out of my ass and do something about the pining because apparently the two of us have been driving everyone else insane with our moping."

"You weren't moping! You were sleeping with anything with a pulse!" Athos exclaimed. Aramis ducked his head, apparently contrite.

"You weren't interested. It was a coping mechanism."

Athos chewed his lip for a moment.

"Have we been stupidly blind?" he asked slowly.

"You mean Porthos was right?"

Athos sighed.

"Yeah," he said, lifting one hand to push a few wayward curls out of Aramis' face. "I think we've been pretty bloody dense about the whole thing."

"How long have we wasted?" Aramis looked stricken, and Athos wasn't having any of that. He brought his other hand up to catch Aramis' face and draw him down for a kiss.

Aramis came willingly. So willingly, in fact, that within moments there was nothing on the planet for Athos except Aramis' warm mouth, the heat of his body and the hard length of Aramis' erection pressed against his own.

"Don't think about it like that," he murmured against Aramis' lips as he flipped them over so he could pin Aramis down. "Think about all the time we've got ahead of us."

~

The snow had stopped falling by the time they made it out of the flat. The whole world was white and still, and they walked along together, arm in arm, down the middle of the deserted road.

A few streets over, they found their favourite cafe open. The owners lived on the premises, and the steamed up windows glowed warm and golden in a line of darkened, shut shops.

There were only a handful of regulars in, locals who'd braved the cold in search of caffeine and carbs on that freezing Monday morning. Athos bought them both huge vats of triple shot lattes, a plateful of croissants and some hot toast, and they curled up together in the corner on a squashy sofa near the window.

The scene outside was blurred and white, cutting them off from the regular world of study and work and bills and the day to day minutiae of life. Today, they were cocooned, snug in a warm little world of delicious smells and good coffee, where they could sit and talk all day about nothing and no one was going to chase them for anything.

Well, mostly. They'd barely finished their first mugs of coffee when the door opened to admit Porthos and d'Artagnan in a flurry of fresh flakes.

"I thought we might find you here," Porthos began with a smile, then he stopped, jaw dropping. "Oh my god," he said. "At last."

"What?" d'Artagnan stared from Porthos to Athos and back again. "What's going on?"

"At bloody last!" Porthos grinned, wide and happy. He pointed at the way Aramis was half sat in Athos' lap, one of Athos' hands resting high on Aramis' thigh.

"And?" Athos asked, unable to keep the note of belligerence out of his voice. His hand tightened possessively as Aramis gave Porthos a smug grin.

"And I, for one, am bloody relieved." Porthos dropped down into the armchair opposite them. "It took you long enough."

"Oh, leave them alone." d'Artagnan nudged Porthos' shoulder. "I think it's sweet. Americano?"

"Please. And a white chocolate muffin." Porthos threw d'Artagnan a quick smile then leaned forward to study Athos and Aramis. Unexpectedly, though, he didn't say anything - he just looked.

"What?" Aramis asked after a minute. "Stop staring, Porthos. I know I haven't got a hickey on my neck."

"Which makes a change." Porthos' eyes flicked between Athos and Aramis. "I'm betting Athos has marked his territory some other, more subtle way."

A hot flush ran through Athos at the memory of just where he'd marked Aramis, and judging by the way Aramis squirmed, he was quite clearly remembering too. Athos couldn't help himself, and pressed the fingers of the hand on Aramis' thigh against the spot where he'd worried the skin with his teeth whilst his fingers had pressed deep enough to make Aramis gasp and beg.  
Porthos raised an eyebrow.

"No details please." He held up a hand, then laughed, the deep rich belly laugh he saved for when he was genuinely amused. "I just have to say, I'm happy for you. I'm also happy for me, because I'm not going to have to look at your pathetic kicked-puppy expressions ever again."

"Hey," Aramis started to protest but then d'Artagnan was there, putting a tray, laden with muffins and a pile of hot cheese and ham paninis, down on the table.

"They'd just made them," he said by way of explanation. "I couldn't say no, could I? I'll go get the coffee."

Athos shook his head on a wry smile as Aramis and Porthos both abandoned their fledgling argument and dived into the food. Somethings never changed, he thought, leaning forward to snag a hot toastie before they all vanished. As he did so, he caught Aramis' eye and the fond look Aramis threw his way was almost enough to stop his breath. And some things, he decided, changed for the better.


End file.
